Helping is Healing
by Baka-Pyros
Summary: Draco Malfoy is stuck in grief and guilt from his participation in the war. When he is advised to try and make lives better in order to help make up for his past deeds, he never thought he would end up playing matchmaker. HG/SS, Rated for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

The couch seemed to be sucking him into it, and Draco fought with all his good breeding to sit still and not betray his discomfort. He glanced around with unease at the neutral taupes and beiges of the office he was in, vaguely noting the grandmother clock hanging on the wall, it's ticks marking the seconds that he was spending money on.

Before he was left to sit in anxiety any longer, the door opened and a tall and lanky man strode in, sporting a bad comb over and a pair of incredibly thick glasses. His unassuming brown robes made him seem as if he was nothing more than an accent of his plain office. He looked over to the young man on his couch and gave a hearty smile, before glancing at the clipboard he held clutched in one hand.

Draco stood up to shake the man's hand who introduced himself as Dr Mackay, curtly returned the Dr's jovial greeting, and then sat back down on the couch. The older man sat in a chair opposite him and crossed his legs. He briefly flipped through a couple of papers on his clipboard which no doubt held little innocuous details about his newest patient. 19 years old, attending Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry to redo his final year, ex-Death Eater, son of convict Lucius Malfoy. He let the clip board rest comfortably against his leg before leaning forward intently.

"What would you like to talk about, Mr Malfoy?" he asked, plain brown eyes unwavering from grey ones.

"I thought you were supposed to talk to me," Draco accused. "You're the therapist. Let me know what my problems are and then tell me how to fix them."

Dr Mackay peered over the edge of his glasses. "Is that what you really think happens here?"

Draco lifted his nose in the air a fraction. "It is what I was lead to believe," he sneered.

"Well then, if you do not wish to talk about anything, would you like to hear what I think?" When there was no response he continued, "I think that you're trying to avoid the subject that's weighing on you enough you had to lower yourself to come and take therapy. I think you're hiding behind a front of impeccable manners," he gestured towards Draco's ramrod straight posture, "and using a veneer of snobbery to make it seem as if there truly is no reason for you to be here."

Draco did not reply, asides from raising his nose another fraction in the air.

"So tell me, Mr Malfoy, _why_ are you here?"

The ticking of the grandmother clock was the only noise in the room, as the question was taken into extreme consideration.

Why _was_ he here?

Because his father is rotting in Azkaban.

Because he watched his school mates be tortured.

Because he had been assigned to be a murderer, because he had witnessed death.

Because his friend had died foolishly.

The condescending sneer fell from his face, and he faced the therapist very seriously. "Because I can't sleep at night."

Dr Mackay leaned back in seeming satisfaction. "That seems as good a reason as any. Tell me, why can't you sleep."

Draco felt his courage that had helped him deluge such information failing him. His eyes broke away from the dull, flat ones of the man in front of him.

"It's the war, isn't it?"

Draco snorted. "Of course it's the _war_, you bloody imbecile. I can't close my eyes at night with out seeing Professor Burbage spinning above my head. I hear Granger's pathetic screams about how she didn't know anything. I still feel the heat of fiend fyre, and still smell the burning of that God forsaken room. You made such a brilliant guess thinking that it was the _war_."

"What about these keeps you up, then? It's over with. There's nothing to do now."

His heart was pounding, and he knew that someone had to finally know. "Because I was a coward!" he exclaimed in bitter frustration. "All those, and every single time, _I was there!_ I could have done something for once. Like Potter, and his stupid friends."

"You would have been killed."

"You think I don't know that? I thought about it every day, you bloody quack."

"The fact remains," began Dr Mackay, "that there is nothing for it now. Go on and live your life, be happy."

Draco glared at him. "Is this a fucking joke?" he demanded.

The doctor shrugged. "Not at all. Unless you have something you want to do about it."

The clock in the background steadily ticked away.

"What can I do?" he asked quietly.

"First, you need to come to terms that the past is in the past. You may regret your decisions, but however much you hate yourself for them, they've already been made. Second, you need to think about the present."

"The present? Presently I feel like I'm being taken for a ride by a charlatan."

"Perhaps, but, honestly, what do you have to lose?"

Draco crossed his arms with a huff. "What about the present, then?"

"You caused suffering in the past. Make your present, and future, about causing happiness. You'll never make up to people what you did, because actions cannot be reversed. You can, however, try and lighten their future."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You want me to become a perpetually happy and helping _dolt_."

"No, that is what you perceive people who like to bestow happiness as. It may be a cliché, but it really is better to give than it is to receive, Mr Malfoy. Think about who you can help. War reparations, if you will."

How could he help people who didn't want him around? How could he help people he, despite everything, still couldn't stand?

Starting at the beginning of his short lived Death Eater career, he supposed he should try and make it up to Severus. He had been to hard headed to accept help, and because of it his Godfather had been forced to murder his own mentor.

Draco shivered as the memory of the night on the Astronomy Tower flashed through his mind, and he saw the loathing on Severus' face. That at the time he had thought to have been directed both at him, for his inability to complete his task, and at the headmaster. It sickened him to think a man could hate himself that much.

Knowing now, that Severus, having been rescued from death by Nagini's fangs by Potter's pet ginger, still lived with that hate inside himself, made Draco's stomach clench. That it was his fault his godfather regularly got trashed and broke into the Headmaster's office to yell at Dumbledore's portrait. Not that Draco was supposed to know that, but he had been over on a such a night, sharing drinks with Severus until he had drunkenly stumbled his way towards the gargoyle in front of the headmaster's office.

Still friends after class hours, more compatriots in consistently finding the bottoms of bottles, Draco decided that Severus would be the easiest person to make amends with.

All he had to do was find a way to make his life a little bit easier.

He stood up, and the doctor quickly followed suit. Reaching forward Draco shook his hand. "I won't thank you until I see it does something in my life."

Dr Mackay smiled patiently. "I hope you check in a few times, let me know if anything is working, what you've been doing."

Draco nodded in agreement, thinking he would probably never be back in this office again if he could help it. Unless it was to demand a refund.

He exited the office and made his way downstairs to the apparation points in the lobby. Turning in a circle and disapparating with a loud _crack_, he returned to the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Pulling his coat tighter around himself to shield from the cool Scotland autumn, Draco began his trek back up to the school, not realising his heart already felt a little lighter.

…………………..

AN: Just an idea I've been playing around with. Let me know what you think of poor old therepy!Draco. :D


	2. Chapter 2

Hurrying into the building, the cold stone walls of Hogwarts greeted Draco with the same indifference they had the last seven years of his education. He shivered slightly from the cold, rubbed his hands together, and began making his way to his common room.

He had only just reached the stairs that lead down to the dungeons, when he spied Severus walking towards him from the direction of the Great Hall. He surreptitiously checked the area for other people wandering the halls- a habit formed from both living through a war and from being in Slytherin house- as he approached his godfather.

He saw Severus' eyes dart back and forth, barely a flicker, in his own check before they rested solely on him. "Draco," he greeted with a nod of his head.

Unafraid of addressing him informally when in private, Draco returned the nod. "Severus. Did you need something?"

"I have been informed by our esteemed headmistress that our after class hours spent together are deemed as less than appropriate," he sneered.

Draco studiously did not mention the destroyed headmistress's office. McGonagall must have not been very impressed to have walked in on that mess. Even less so, he surmised, since it must have been Dumbledore who had told her exactly what had happened.

"So, it would seem that our plans for tonight have fallen through. I'll see you in class on Tuesday."

Without waiting for a reply, he continued his way past Draco, going up to either do patrols or to talk with McGonagall. Draco watched his stiff retreat. _Merlin, does that man need to get laid_. He thought with a trace of amusement and frustration. Maybe that would loosen Severus up for the first time in ages.

He stood in the entryway for a moment, his focus turned on to this new turn of events. Without their meetings on the weekend, Draco had almost no alone time with Severus. How was he supposed to make his life better if he never saw him outside of a class room?

He scowled and continued on his way to the stairs. What had seemed like an easy task to start off with had just became more than twice as hard.

Only a few steps down, he paused when he heard two people arguing furiously and heading up the stairs where Severus had just disappeared. Looking over his shoulder showed Weasley and Granger in a heated debate about something. They paused on the bottom stairs when Weasley threw his hands up in frustration.

"I don't get why you gotta do this!" he cried out.

"I've been over this with you a thousand times, Ron! I'm not going to explain myself to you _again_!" Granger yelled back, her voice turning into a shriek by the end of the statement.

"But why _him_?" was the petulant sounding answer. Draco crept closer as their voices began to get quieter, wanting to find out what the argument was about.

"Are you completely thick? He's a potion's master! I want to be a _healer_. Of course I'm going to ask Professor Snape to apprentice under him. I'm grateful he even was willing to have a meeting about it!" She tossed her hair over her shoulder and sniffed at him.

She turned to continue her journey up the stairs, but Weasley grabbed her wrist. "I still don't get it. I'm going to be an auror, I can take care of you."

Granger's mouth gaped open in a most unattractive, but very hilarious, way. "What?"

"You don't have to work," Weasley declared with growing confidence. He let go of her wrist. "Once we're out of school I'll have a job and enough galleons to look after both of us. We can get our own place, and you won't have to worry about a thing." He drew himself up proudly.

There was a long pause. "There are so many things wrong with that I don't know where to begin," Granger said not unkindly, and Draco held in a snigger at the sight of Weasley visibly deflating. "I _want_ to work. I want to make my own way and be independent. Both my parents work, and they still have a wonderful relationship. Also… Ron, I'm not sure where you got this idea that I'd be living with you right after graduation. We're not even dating."

Weasley dropped his gaze. "Well, I thought with what had happened with the war and everything…"

"Ron that was one kiss. How did you go from that to the idea we would be living together so soon?"

Draco had to hand it to Granger. She wasn't spitting mad, like he would have expected the uppity chit to be, at the idea her friend/quasi-boyfriend had expected her to stay at home barefoot and pregnant. He considered it briefly. This had to be out of concern for her friend's feelings. He couldn't imagine the Gryffindor Brain letting her mind atrophy by breeding.

He snorted. The thought reminded him of what Severus had told him about his view on having children. Something about preventative potions being invented for a reason.

Weasley, in response to the girl's question, hung his head. "I just figured…" he trailed off with a pout that looked ridiculous on the now of-age wizard.

Granger's patience had evidently worn thin. "Ron," she snapped. "I am going to be late for the meeting. If you have something more to say to me, it can wait until after I'm done speaking with Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape."

He opened his mouth, to protest presumably, but shut it at the withering glare he receive. "Kay. I'll see you in the common room later, 'Mione." He began to descend the stairs.

"For heaven's sake! That is not my name!" Granger reprimanded to the back of her retreating friend.

Draco watched as Weasley moped his way down one of the many stair cases littering the entrance hall. Off to the kitchens without a doubt, the glutton.

Granger was still standing on the stairs, staring out where Weasley had left. She chewed at her lip, and absently brushed her hair out of her face, where it returned almost immediately. She turned, and Draco saw the torchlight bring a shine to a bright pink scar peeking out from the top of her shirt. He winced at the sight, memories of Granger screaming in pain on the floor of his den flashing through his mind.

Finally, she heaved an impatient breath. "I don't have time for this," she said aloud, before turning and marching up the stairs with an angry gait.

Draco watched her leave, before he stepped out of the shadows of the alcove he had snuck into during the fight. He was torn between mentally berating himself for spying on people and congratulating himself for not getting caught. Not that it was hard to hide from Gryffindors. More often than not they didn't notice anything until it hit them like a Bludger to the face.

He shook his head. So Granger wanted to apprentice in Potions, did she? He pondered, walking down the stairs to the dungeons once again. It would be interesting to see if Severus accepted to be her Master or not. He didn't have a high tolerance for idiocy, and although naïve, not even Draco could argue that Hermione Granger was an idiot.

The cold air of the dungeon swept around him, reminding him of the chill outside. Draco scowled as he recalled his meeting with Dr Mackay. He couldn't help those he never got a chance to see.

Mentally putting Severus further down the list, Draco resolved to go and visit his mother in the morning. He could talk to her. Apologise for what he had done. Thank her for what she had.

He nodded. It was a start.

… …

"Ms Granger. I'm glad you could come," Professor McGonagall said briskly. "Ginger newt?" she gestured towards a tin on her desk.

"Er, no thank you," Hermione said, eyeing the cookies from her seat. "And really, it's I who must thank both you and Professor Snape for agreeing to meet with me about this." She felt excitement building in her, her argument with Ron readily pushed to the back of her mind.

McGonagall nodded. "You wish to complete a Potions apprenticeship with Professor Snape. This is because you have aspirations towards the field of being a Healer, is it not?"

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, looking at Professor Snape from the corner of her eye. He didn't look particularly angry at the idea. He just sat there watching the proceedings with much the same irritated scowl he had given her when she had first approached him about the idea.

"Professor Snape, I take it from your agreement to be here this afternoon, that you are not opposed to this idea."

The stern looking man nodded curtly.

McGonagall looked back to Hermione. "It will be three years before you become fully accredited as a Potions Mistress. You will be expected to reside in the castle, preferably in the dungeons for convenience to the both of you. The rest of the details for your apprenticeship are to be worked out between yourself and Professor Snape. You are aware of this?"

Hermione blinked, startled. She turned sharply to stare at Professor Snape. "You mean you'll really do it?" she exclaimed incredulously.

"Miss Granger, if I hadn't intended on agreeing, I wouldn't have bothered coming up here at all," he said with a sneer.

"But why?" At his raised eyebrow she continued, "Why would you accept, I mean?"

"Are you trying to convince me otherwise, Miss Granger? Or did you ask with the expectation that I would decline?"

"I- well, not exact- well… I don't know." She sat in confusion. "So, all I have to do is accept and then, bam, you're my Master?" She felt herself get a little light-headed from giddiness.

Snape scowled heavily. "Technically, you asking me in the first place was acceptance," he reminded her.

"Oh. Of course, sir." She attempted to regain her composure, but she could feel her cheeks heating up from excitement, and she was fidgeting in her chair trying to contain her energy. She surreptitiously took a deep breath to calm herself.

The portrait of Albus Dumbledore that hung on the wall behind the headmistress beamed genially down at them all. "Really, Severus," he remarked in a voice that Hermione thought to be slightly thinner than what he sounded like when alive. "I am proud of you to be willing to take on an apprentice as well as teaching regular classes."

Professor McGonagall nodded in agreement. "And as for you, Miss Granger, I hope you feel confident enough to write your NEWTs."

Hermione nodded, knowing that she wouldn't have been able to be a fulltime student and apprentice at the same time. "Yes, I studied for them all summer and into this month. I'm grateful that you are allowing me to take them early."

McGonagall shook her head. "You should have sat them last June anyway. I'm sure if anyone can handle taking NEWTs missing a year of study, it's you Hermione."

Hermione felt herself beaming at the high praise, but her smile fell slightly when she saw Professor Snape's scowl deepen.

"The Ministry Testing Officials will be here on Monday for you to write your tests. You will receive your results a week after that. You can use this week to discuss with Professor Snape what the terms of your apprenticeship will be. When we receive your results, we will know whether or not to proceed with your apprenticeship. Any questions?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not at the moment, no."

McGonagall gave her a thin smile. "Then you are free to go. Have a good weekend, Miss Granger."

Hermione stood and smiled at her professors, not believing that it could all be as easy as this. "You too," she addressed to McGonagall. She looked to Professor Snape. "Thank you," she said with a sincere warmth.

He didn't react, and perhaps upon realising she was expecting a response of some sort, he jerked his head in a nod.

With a last smile for McGonagall, Hermione slipped her way out of the office.

Never before had she felt so happy that her exams were only two days away.

….

**AN:** I would like to thank all my brilliant readers, especially those who took the time to review! I'm sorry for the delay between chapters, but life has been rather hectic. I was doing some beta hunting for another of my fics, and that combined with moving has made for a rather busy me.

Remember, reviews are like crack only more addicting. :D

-BakaPyros


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